


Behind the Quidditch pitch

by Craftswoman



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Falling In Love, Gay Draco Malfoy, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Infidelity, M/M, Oblivious Harry, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-06 16:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15198401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Craftswoman/pseuds/Craftswoman
Summary: With most of them back at Hogwarts for an additional 8th year after the war, things had changed. Harry tried to keep everything as it has always been, but Malfoy was really getting on his nerves.It started as a challange and a game, but was it?





	1. Harry

He streched out as he lay on the worn-out sofa and waited. He'd been there for a while now. He sat there and waited until all his fellow Gryffindors had finally gone up to bed. It was very late now and still he hadn't come.

Harry wasn't at all sure he would.

He did something today. It surprised him at the time, but after so many years of smirks and pranks, glaring and teasing, he just did it.

It was this thing with Malfoy.

They had returned to Hogwarts for an additional 8th year after the war, all of them damaged and, in one way or other, affected by it. Harry trembled and his legs were unsteady as he entered the Hogwarts grounds, with all its grim memories, but with Ron and Hermione at his side, he managed to walk inside the castle, where everything had been rebuilt to look exactly like it used to. "You see," Ron had said, "it's gonna be just like before." He'd smiled weakly and patted Harry on the back. Harry didn't feel as assured as he'd liked to, but sat down at the Gryffindor table along with his friends and watched a new group of first years get sorted and listened to Headmistress McGonnagall's rather emotional speech. He looked around at the other 8th year students. Most of them seemed to be back, even some of the Slytherins. And among them Draco Malfoy.

Harry thought that Malfoy would've had the decency to keep a low profile, to go out of his way, to be a little more tentative, but no, it was like it always been between the two of them, perhaps even worse. But there also was something teasing and a feeling of pretence to the hexes they threw at one anonther, the stares across the Hall, the endless verbal fighting, that just kept on and on. It was like an itch, that constantly needed scratching.

It was after the game, right outside the Quidditch pitch, where he lost his temper and shoved him fiercly up against the side of the shed. They weren't even supposed to be playing Quidditch anymore, being eight-teen and considered adults, but Harry couldn't imagine going to Hogwarts without being able to play, so he had begged the Headmistress, and in the end she reluctantly agreed, that all 8th-years could play, if they wanted, but no one asked to, except Harry and Malfoy.

The House-cup game had been going on for hours and the Slytherin seeker had been on his tail the whole time, knocking him about, chasing him, playing dirty tricks the entire match. Of course, it was supposed to be rough sometimes, but this behaviour was more childish, and frankly, he'd thought they were beyond that at their age. Hell, it seemed like he didn't even bother to catch the Snitch himself, only to stop Harry from doing it. They'd been tumbling around all over the pitch, Harry trying to reach the Snitch, Malfoy kicking and tugging to get him off balance and hopefully fall off his broom. Ginny, who was captain for the Gryffindor team, tried to get Madam Hooch to interfere, but nothing out of the ordinary was detected. Finally, Harry managed to lay his hand on the golden sphere and it was over.

So, Harry was furious, and as Malfoy passed him, alone behind the broom-shed, he ambushed him, pressed his forearm under his chin and hissed very close to his face, "What the hell was that all about, Malfoy?"

His blond opponent smirked, "Why? Aren't you up to it anymore, Scarhead? Are you getting slow and heavy?"

That made Harry's rage boil, and with eyes flashing with anger, he pushed him even harder against the wall. "Watch it, Ferret, are you calling me fat?" It was true, in a way. Harry had filled out these last six months and his shoulders had broadened. He wasn't the scrawny nimble boy anymore, but it was all muscles.

They were very close, bodies pressed against eachother, with sweat soaked robes, steaming in the cold evening air, eye to eye and their breaths whiffing each other's faces. Harry shoved Malfoy's chin up a little higher. That's when he felt it, a slight twitch against his thigh and he saw the grey eyes dilate into an almost complete black.  _What the hell?_ Harry gasped, and a shudder past through him.

Voices came closer and within seconds they were to be surrounded by their team-mates, and he did it, he took this wild chance. Harry leaned in and whispered, "The password is 'Lionhearts'." Then he turned around and left for the changing rooms.

It was a wild shot, a challange, and anything could happen. Or nothing at all. But he was waiting still, staring into the dying fire.

The burning wood cracked when he poked it a little and then the fire flames shot up again.  He heard a soft rustle behind him, and Harry knew he was there, by the hesitant step and the lack of a loud greeting. "You came," he said without turning his head.

The tall Slytherin came up and stood right by his side. "I can't imagine what I'm doing here, though."

"Of course, you do. You know exactly why you're here." Harry patted on the seat beside him. "Sit."

"You're bossy, I might say," Malfoy smeared and remained standing. "I really don't know what to expect here. I'd decided not to come, I even went to bed. Is this some hilarious prank on my expense and all your Gryffindors are hiding here somewhere, waiting to jump on me?"

"No, it's not."

Malfoy snorted. "How would I know?"

Harry sprang up from his seat, wand in hand and eyes flaming. He came close to Malfoy and hissed through his teeth, "Because I say so, you snivelling prat." A flick of fear crossed Malfoy's indifferent face, hardly noticeble before it was gone.

Harry pointed his wand and cast a locking spell on the two entrances to the dorms.

"There," he said, his eyes still locked on Malfoy. "Better?"

Malfoy winced and continued after a pause, "So, is this your idea of us becoming friends, Potter?" He looked down on Harry along his pointy nose. He was still slightly taller.

"Hardly!" Harry snorted. "Did I say I wanted to be your friend?" He paused and put his wand away. "But I'm not your enemy either. Not anymore."

"What lukewarm non-friendly relation are you suggesting then, oh Chosen One?" He rolled his eyes.

Harry pushed Malfoy to the wall beside the fireplace. Harry was stronger, and he held his hands on the Slytherin's upper arms in a firm grip. Avoiding the other boy's eyes, he moved one hand and held the palm on his stomach. Slowly, he trailed it lower. Harry took a deep breath and swallowed, "Actually, I was thinking of something a bit warmer."

Malfoy didn't move, he didn't run, and he didn't yell bloody fire. Harry let his hand slide even further down and he held his breath. What was he doing? This was crazy. His heart beat so fast it pounded in his ears. His hand had now reached the top of Malfoy's pyjama bottom, and as Harry slid one finger inside the elasticband, Malfoy gasped, "What the fuck are you doing, Scarhead?"

"Don't tell me you don't think about it. Don't tell me you don't want this too." Harry's voice was very low, barely audible. He tilted up his face and finally locked eyes with Malfoy. His pale eyelashes fluttered and his breaths came uneven.

Malfoy put a hand on his hip, yanking him closer, and reached for the button on his jeans. Harry immediatley sensed his body react. His cock was swelling and stirring. For Malfoy? Good Godric, what was he thinking, he had a  _girlfriend!_

Harry stopped hesitating and firmly pushed his hand down Malfoy's trousers. He was equally hard. He moved his hand alongside the smooth skin on the vibrating shaft and savoured the sensation. Malfoy had now unzipped Harry's jeans and groped him. Harry felt the urge to be set free, so with his left hand, he quickly pulled his jeans, along with his pants down to his knees.

He unexpectedly got the feeling of being exposed and vunerable, standing infront of Malfoy with his erect cock out in the open, so he pulled down Malfoy's pyjamas,  _and sweet Merlin on a banana peel,_ Malfoy pressed his naked groin against his. 

"They're all asleep up there, but I suppose I can count on you, keeping it quiet?" Harry's voice was hoarse and his breath hitched.

"Don't worry, I won't embarrass you in front of your rightious little friends," Malfoy hissed very close to Harry's ear. "Trust me, I'm not that keen to make my presence known." With that said, he spit in his hand and gripped Harry's cock together with his own and with them aligned side by side, his hand started to move.

It didn't take long, in fact it was distressingly fast. As Harry sensed his climax coming closer he leaned in on Malfoy and tried to muffle his moans against his shoulder. He could hear Malfoy whimper and knew he was close too.  Harry put a hand at the back of Malfoy's head and pulled his face down to the crook of his neck, and with a suppressed outcry, Malfoy came, wich was all Harry needed to go over the top himself.

They stood there, shivering and silent for the longest time. Malfoy still had his face at Harry's neck, and Harry realized that he had his teeth rather deep buried into the cloth of Malfoy's robe. When they finally felt they could move again, they backed off from eachother and Malfoy took out his wand and cast a quick  cleaning spell over them both. He winced and rubbed his shoulder where Harry's teeth had dug in. "You know, you could've cast a simple  _Muffliato,_ instead, you idiot." Then he said, "See you around, Potter," and in a blink of an eye, he was gone. Harry fumbled as he tried to pull up his jeans, but instead he let himself slide down to the floor, still panting. Well, that was bizarre, if nothing else.

                                                                               ***

All 8th year students had their classes together, so there was no way of avoiding Malfoy.

They started eye-fucking each other. The difference wasn't that big from how it used to be, but whenever Harry turned to look at Malfoy,the smirks and the sneers had another innuendo.

Harry was seated right behind him in Transfiguration class, and he couldn't stop looking at that long slender neckline, fragile and unyielding at the same time. His eyes were locked at it and he had difficulty concentrating on the textbook in front of him, when Malfoy lifted his hand to scratch his neck; no, not scratch, he trailed a finger up and down, almost caressing against the grain of the neatly cut blond hair. Somehow this made Harry's blood rush to his groin and a sweat broke on his upper lip. Malfoy tilted his head slightly forward and a strain of the long fringe fell in front of his eyes, and Harry could sense, rather than see, the smirk at the corners of his lips. The bloody bastard was doing it on purpose. He knew Harry was looking at him. Later that afternoon, Harry had no choice, but to assault him outside the boy's bathroom and drag him into one of the cubicles and run his hands all over him.

They walked out of a classroom, when a hex suddenly made Harry trip and drop all his books on the floor. This was so typical of the Potter/Malfoy sparring that Ron and Hermione merely turned their heads and kept walking. "I'll catch up," Harry waved them on.

"Still grovelling around in the dirt, I see, Potter?" Malfoy smirked as he passed. But Harry noticed the folded piece of parchment that was dropped as he passed by, and hurried to put it in his pocket. When he unfolded it, it only contained two words,  _Trophy-room midnight._

Harry stepped into the dark room and threw off his Invisibility Cloak. At once, someone grabbed his forearm and an elbow hooked around his throat from behind. "Couldn't keep away, now could you, Scarhead?" Malfoy's ragged breath tickled his neck. Harry pushed his back closer to the boy behind him. He could feel Malfoy's cock twitch, and he grinded his buttocks against it. "You seem pretty eager yourself, Ferret-face."

Malfoy eased the grip around Harry's throat and slipped his arm down Harry's chest, down to his abdomen. Harry's pulse picked up speed as Malfoy's hand worked its way inside his pyjama shirt. Tonight it was Harry's turn to have to pretend to go to sleep before sneaking out of the dorm. The contact of the warm hand on his naked skin sent Harry shivering. He made a snappy turn and faced Malfoy.

He needed to feel Malfoy's skin; that smooth pale skin that had haunted his dreams for days now. He wanted to press his body against it, and so he tugged and yanked until they were both free from their shirts. Harry gulped. There was a long deep scar across Malfoy's chest, disfiguring his, in all other aspects, perfect torso. The  _Sectumsempra._

Harry had no idea that it had left such a scar. He gazed into Malfoy's eyes. "That's mine," he stated, as he trailed it with his fingers. He could see Malfoy clench his teeth and his body tensed. Harry leaned forward and placed a kiss on the ragged line close to Malfoy's nipple. Then he placed another one and another one, and then he licked it. He licked and kissed the scar all the way from the shoulder to the hip. Malfoy's breath hitched and Harry felt the shivers in his body. Harry licked his hipbone and let his tongue slide over his abdomen and lingered a while in the blond hair that trailed down from his navel, as he got down on his knees. The scent from the groin and the pre-cum was intoxicating. Harry drew a deep breath and inhaled it, as he opened Malfoy's trousers and pulled them down. He heard Malfoy moan and yelp as his erect cock sprang free.

His shaft was long and lighter than Harry's, and Harry thought it was perfect and beautiful, so he kissed it too. Malfoy's knees gave in and he would have fallen if Harry hadn't steadied him with his hands on his hips. Malfoy was so hard, his cock almost lay flat against his stomach. Harry gave Malfoy a hasty look for some sort of approval before he went on, and the sight of his face made Harry's heart flip. His eyes were closed, his cheeks flushed pink and his teeth glimmered behind slightly parted lips. The sweat from his brow had made his hair damp and it fell in limp strands across his face, and without his usual smug expression he looked like an angel.

Harry took a deep breath and lowered his mouth on the tip of Malfoy's cock and took it in as long as he could. As he gagged a little, he released it again and licked the tip free of pre-cum, the unfamiliar bitter taste filling his mouth. He licked and kissed the silky side of it down to the balls. They were beautiful too. Everything about Malfoy was bloody beautiful and smooth and tasteful. He gently licked his balls as well, and felt his own erection striving to be freed and noticed. He shifted a bit and loosened his right hand from Malfoy's hip and took his own cock in his hand. He resumed to sucking Malfoy's shaft, taking it deeper into his throat and ignoring the gagging reflexes. In a daze, he heard Malfoy's voice, unsteady and breathless, "That's right... Oh, Heavens, yes… So good… Yes…"

He came unexpectedly, and Harry's mouth was filled with his spunk. As it threatened to suffocate him, he swallowed. Malfoy swayed and stumbled, but he gripped Harry's arms and pulled him up, and with one arm around his shoulders he gripped Harry's throbbing cock with the other. It didn't take more than a few strikes before Harry also blacked out and Malfoy's hand was covered with sperm.

"See you around, Potter." They were both cleaned and dressed and Malfoy turned away from the door before opening it. Then he quickly closed it again. "Shit!" he hissed.

"Filch?" Harry asked. Malfoy nodded.

"How, in the name of Salazar, am I going to get passed him? I'm not so lucky to have such a wonderful cloak as you. I can be stuck here forever, if he's in that mood," he whined.

Harry unfolded his cloak and turned to Malfoy. "Come here. Put your arms around my waist and be sure not to stand up straight. You're taller than me and we better be careful, so that out feet don't show."

"What are you doing, Potter?"

"Helping you to the Slytherin common room, stupid. What else?"

"We won't fit both of us, under that thing," he sneered. "Besides, you don't know the way."

"Oh, but I do, I've been there before," Harry sniggered. "And it will fit, if you stay real close and follow every move I make. Come on, Malfoy, I haven't got all night."

With Malfoy behind him, his arms around Harry's sturdy chest and the cloak meticulously draped around them, they slipped out of the door, careful not to make any suspicious sounds. They passed Filch muttering to himself in the corridor, silent as mice and managed to get down to the dungeons undetected. Outside  the entrance in the stone wall they cast off the cloak and stood for a while, looking at each other in silence. THen Harry lifted himself up on his toes and gave Malfoy a quick peck on the cheek before he flung the shimmering fabric over his head  and disappeared.

"Good night, Ferret," the dark corridor whispered.

                                                                                 ***

It was Hogsmeade weekend. Being in 8th year and of age, they could go whenever they wanted, but Ginny couldn't, so they all agreed to make it a double date the coming Saturday.

Hermione had planned this outing in detail. For days she'd been discussing in which order to go to the different shops, to get the most out of the day, with her usual effectiveness. She also planned a lunch and after a long debate, they settled for the Hog's Head. Ron, Ginny and Harry just grinned and went along, quite aware that they had no say in the matter, anyway. On the way to the village, Ginny took Harry's hand, as they walked side by side, and he squeezed it and smiled at her affectionally.

They went to Honeydukes, of course, discussed the latest Quidditch equipment on display at Spintwitches Sporting Needs (all but Hermione), rushed to the bookshop Tomes and Scrolls (only Hermione) and decided (all of them) that Zonko's had nothing as good as George had at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Hermione needed a new quill, so they also popped in at Scrivenshaft's. She chose carefully, taking her time. Meanwhile, Harry and Ginny browsed the diffrent quills on display at the shelves. Ginny looked longingly at a self-inking quill, which was far too expensive for her, and Harry let his fingers strike on the softest white quill he'd ever seen, from a Goffin cockatoo. It was sharp at the tip, and fluffy and slightly curled at the top, and he knew from the moment he saw it, who would look good with that quill. When Hermione was finished, and they were out on the street, Harry shouted a hasty, "Wait here!" and dashed into the shop again. He bought the self-inking quill for Ginny, and before he changed his mind, he also threw the cockatoo-quill on the counter.

The Pub was crowded when they got there, but they still managed to get a table. Harry suspected it had something to do with him being the Saviour, but no-one mentioned it, so he acted like he didn't notice.

They sat in a both, Harry and Ginny on one side facing the door, Ron and Hermione on the other, with their Butterbeers, waiting for their food. Ginny eased herself closer to Harry, as she spoke, rather vividly, about last evenings Quidditch practise. Harry put his arm around her and smiled. His heart filled with warmth for her and he was very pleased about buing her a nice present. Ginny was strong and pretty and fun and... safe. Her long red hair swept over his face as she shook her head, as to emphasize what she just said. "Don't you agree, Harry?" She fixed her brown eyes at Harry. He hadn't heard a word of what she'd said.

Minutes before, the door to the Pub had opened and a group of Slytherins had entered and joined some Housemates at a nearby table, among them a tall blond boy.

They locked eyes across the stirring room and the intense of his gaze was so strong that it made Harry's heart rage. Then Malfoy raised an eyebrow, in his usual superior fashion. Harry groaned out loud. Ron turned his head. "Figures," he hissed, "of course,  _he_ has to be here. Now, we'll see what trouble he'll be making this time."

Harry tied, he really tried, to keep his attention to his friends and his girlfriend, but he couldn't stop his eyes from drifting over to see what the Slytherin was doing. Right now, he had his fingers in Parkinson's hair, playing with it, pulling it up to his lips. His grey eyes met Harry's and he flicked his tongue out to moisten his lips. Those lips. Those pink lush lips... Malfoy turned back to the girl beside him and started to kiss and lick her throat and neck. She screeched and giggled loudly, and smacked him on the head. "Stop that, you spoiled prat, it tickles!" He lifted his head and looked over at Harry again, with a wide smirk across his face. Harry heard Zabini's loud laughter and felt his inside boil. That son of a bitch! He hurridly turned his attention to his Butterbeer in front of him. A moment later a distant shuffle made him threw a glance at the door, and as Malfoy stopped, with his hand on the handle, he made a small beckoning movement with his shoulders and neck before he walked outside.

Harry began to breathe heavily and shifted restlessly in his seat. Before he had a chance to think it through properly, he got up and mumbled, "I've got to go outside. I'll be back in a sec."

Harry felt the excitement pounding in his chest as soon as he stepped out in the cold. He looked over the area and caught a glimpse of black robes flipping around the corner to the narrow dark alley. He followed and stood face to face with a snickering Malfoy. "Potter, Potter, you must be the easiest trick in the world," he drawled. "Are you having a nice little date with your Weasley-girl?"

Harry came up closer and took his wrists in a firm grip. "Oh, shut up, you." He pressed his hips against Malfoy's and buried his face in the crock of his neck. "I bought you a present." Harry's voice was muffled against Malfoy's shoulder.

"What?" Malfoy's eyebrows shot up to the hairline.

"If you're good, I'll give it to you."

He freed his hands and pulled Malfoy's head down and began to trail open mouthed kisses on his collarbone as his fingers tugged at the shirt, to feel the soft skin on the blond boy's chest. "You know, I'm never good," Malfoy groaned. Harry could feel Malfoy's erection grow and with a whimper, Harry pushed his groin against it as close as he could.

"Where did you go, Harry? You were gone so long your food was getting cold. We put a spell on it to keep it warm." Harry slid down in the booth and forced himself to meet the questioning faces of his friends. He was a little out of breath and his cheeks had a suspicious tang of pink. "I just went out for a breath of fresh air, that's all." He tried to sound as detached as possible, but the gulping feeling of guilt hit him as he met Ginny's disappointed eyes. 

Ron turned around and his gaze fell on Malfoy, who stepped in through the door, looking somewhat disshevelled, his hair tangled and a heat burning on his cheekbones. "Was he outside too? Have you two been fighting again?"

                                                                                   ***

Professor Slughorn turned his back at the classroom and continued to speak, as he wrote a list of ingrediencies on the blackboard. "Please, if you could pair up to this assignment without too much shuffle, I would be most grateful. You will work with this potion for the rest of the term and the result will strongly affect your final grades in this class, so choose your partner wisely."

Harry moved fast and silently slipped into the empty seat next to Malfoy. "What are you doing, Potter?" Malfoy hissed between his teeth.

"Taking advantage of you," Harry smirked. He laughed quietly when he saw the gobsmacked expression in Malfoy's face. "Relax," he sniggered, "I suck at Potions, and I could really need a better grade if I want to make it into the Auror Academy. I thought you could help me with that." He leaned in a little closer and whispered, "I'm sure I can make it worth it."

Malfoy pulled away from him, and cast a quick look around, but since nobody seemed to be taking too much notice, and they weren't exactly queuing up to be his assignment partner, he shuddered his shoulders. "You better not screw everything up for me, Scarhead. Just shut up and do as I tell you, all right?"

Harry grinned widely and held up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm your slave, oh Great God of Potions. What shall I start with?"

THey worked surprisingly well together, although Malfoy had to correct again and again what Harry did, and although he always did it with a disdainful smirk and a lifted eyebrow, they actually had fun standing side by side, chopping and mushing. Harry found it comforting to feel the light brush from Malfoy's elbow on his forearm and the thought of touching that smooth pale skin, so close, but still out of reach, made his heart beat a little faster. It was their secret, theirs alone. Occationally Harry would make a mistake and Malfoy would roll his eyes, and occationally their fingers would touch while they worked.

Ron and Hermione exchanged startled looks, when they saw Malfoy make a cringing face and they heard Harry's ringing laughter

                                                                                    ***

"You better cover that up before Ginny sees it." Hermione scowled at Harry's neck before returning to the book in front of her. Harry's hand automatically came up to the red mark and his face flushed. He had just sat down opposite her at her favourite desk in the library.

"What makes you think it's not Ginny's?" he asked and pulled up the shirt-collar as much as possible.

"Harry, please. You're not even kissing properly. Whatever  _that_ is," she pointed with her quill, "that's passion."

Harry groaned and buried his face in his folded arms on the desk top. He had, in fact, just left Malfoy in the empty Charms classroom. He was still feeling a bit flushed and he was very aware of that Malfoy had bit and sucked his neck quite fiercely when he peaked. That had to leave a mark. "It's nothing, I mean, it doesn't mean anything," he mumbled into his arms.

Hermione put her quill down and gave him an angry look as she reached out her hand and pulled the collar back down again. A long line of various red bruises was revealed. It happened to be Malfoy's favourite spot. "Stop lying to yourself," she said. "This is no way to treat Ginny."

She paused. "What's the matter with you? You skip classes, you're not sitting with us in the common room anymore and you've been a far more than a little distracted lately." She bit her lip. "Look, Harry, if you're seeing someone else…"

"No," Harry exclaimed. "I love Ginny. This… it's just... Oh, I don't know." He  _did_ love Ginny. He loved sitting with her infront of the fireplace, holding her hand, or walking around the grounds with her, playing Quidditch with her. He wanted to keep her safe, to protect her, to care for her. With Malfoy it was compleatly different. It was rough, feverish and totally addictive. And even if there wasn't any tenderness between them, there was a strange trust. How could these two things compare?

"I don't understand." Hermione looked at him with furrowed brow and concern in her eyes, shaking her fuzzy hair. "If you love Ginny, why aren't you with her, then? She's asked about it, you know. She's been wondering, why you never touch her, never want her."

Harry went red as a beetroot. "I just can't." He lifted his head and met his friend's eyes. She took his hand in hers.

"Why not?"

Harry groaned and banged his forehead to the table. "Because… because…" His words trailed off. He couldn't say out loud the reason that formed in his head. Because this thing with Malfoy  _didn't_ mean anything, did it?

"Let me get this straight, then." Hermione sounded quite cross. "You love Ginny, but can't shag her, for obscure reasons, and you shag this other person, obviously regularly, but you're not in love with her."

Harry looked up at Hermione again. He wanted to correct her, it was on the tip of his tongue. Surely, he could say it. This was Hernione after all, the kindest, brightest witch of all. He opened his mouth, but his voice hitched. What did he want to say? That he rather liked being pushed and shoved and manhandled by Malfoy? That he prefered to be with him rather than the prettiest girl in school? That frequently he daydreamed about white-blond hair and pale eye-lashes, of being held down by strong arms, and about that haughty look Malfoy always had when he entered a room.

Hermione watched the turmoil evident in his face. "Is there something you want to tell me?" She fixed her eyes on his. "You have to fix this. This isn't fair towards Ginny, and possibly not to this other person either. You must decide what you want, Harry, and make a choice." She picked up her quill and looked down at her books again. " Now leave, I have a pile of work and need to study."

                                                                                ***

"Wasn't this a great idea?" Ron shouted in Harry's ear, since the music was a bit too loud for a normal conversation. After the Halloween-feast in the Great Hall, somebody suggested they should have a party of their own, all the 8th years, to boost inter-house relations, to come together as adults and possibly forget for a while what was wedged between them during the war. The Room of Requirement had easely provided them with what they needed; dimmed lights in every colour, a dancefloor and music. There were plenty of snacks and drinks as well, Butterbeer and pumpkin-juice, but also a neat supply of contraband Fire-whiskey, curtesy of Seamus Finnegan and Zachariah Smith.

Harry took a swig from his bottle of Butterbeer and looked around the room. Quite a large crowd had occupied the dancefloor and hopped around like maniacs, waving their hands in the air, singing along to the lyrics. Another group had gathered around the makeshift bar in the corner, laughing and drinking, some of them looking a little tipsy already. In the plush sofas along the walls, couple who were dating had started snogging sessions.

Ron tugged at Harry's arm and pushed their way through the crowd towards the bar, where they were loudlygreeted by an indisbutably intoxicated fellow-Gryffindor. "Harry! Ron!" Seamus bellowed. "Here, have a drink, you're both much too soberfor this party." He poured them two large glasses of the golden liquid. Harry locked eyes with Ron and with a laugh, they both nocked back their shots in one go. Harry felt it burn in his throat and immediatly started coughing. Seamus laughed and pounded his back.

Harry surveyed his fellow students. They've been through so much and now they were interacting as the war never happened. He could see Hermione on the otherside of the room talking to Millicent Bulstrode, of all people. It made him feel a bit uneasy.

"You know, Ron," he said. "When we came back here, everyone assured us it was going to be the same as before the war, but it's not. Everything has changed, we've all changed."

His gaze found Malfoy in the crowd, and he devoured the sight of him, the way he stood out from the rest, with his long legs, his arrogant poise and his sharp tongue. Ron followed his ogling and turned to give him a questioning look.

"I think I've changed too," Harry confided, "and it scares me."

Half an hour later Harry found himself on the dancefloor, jumping and waving his hands in the air among the others, three or four more shots buzzing pleasantly in his system. This kind of dancing he could do. He thought he was dancing with Lavender Brown, but right now she wasn't anywhere in sight. Instead he was circled by Hannah Abbott and Padma Patil, and they both tried to touch him and slid their hands along his waist. He smiled at them but freed himself and stepped aside to catch his breath, as he checked out his surroundings.

Malfoy was standing in the middle of a group, mostly Slytherins but others too, some Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Something Malfoy said made them all laugh, and then Harry saw the expression in Justin Finch-Fletchley's face, as he gave Malfoy a dreamy glance.

No. No, he had no right to look at Malfoy that way. Harry felt his stomach churn and clenched his fists. Justin was cocking his head slightly with his eyes fixed at Malfoy's and he laughed again.  _He was flirting with him!_

Within two seconds Harry was standing right next to them, glaring daggers at Justin. He could see the light twist at the corner of Malfoy's mouth. "Potter, how lovely to see that you've decided to stop making a fool of yourself on the dancefloor." Harry spun around to face Malfoy, and he heard Justin giggle.

"I'm allowed to dance, just like everyone else."

"If that's what you want to call it," he sniggered. "But why were we forced to watch?" Malfoy scanned the group with a smirk and Harry could hear Justin's stupid giggle again.

"You're a good dancer, Draco." Zabini's low voice carried an undertone Harry couldn't quite figure out. "Why don't you show Potter how it's done?"

Malfoy turned to his Slytherin mate. "No, thank you, I don't dance. I hate dancing."

"Bullshit!" Zabini snickered. "You love dancing, you always dance. Go on." He gave them both a little push. "Dance with Potter here, teach him your moves."

Malfoy scowled back at Zabini, but was compelled to take the challange, and Harry found himself out on the dancefloor opposite Malfoy. The pulse of the music was fast and heavy, and Harry watched Malfoy close his eyes and slowly start to move his body. They danced. Malfoy swayed, he swivelled, his eyes still closed, and his hips twirled in the most sensual way Harry didn't even know was possible, and all Harry was aware of was this sudden  _want,_ the need to get close to the boy in front of him. He couldn't help but to furtively reach out his hand and take hold of that moving hip. It was immediately shoved away, and Harry met Malfoy's eyes, darkened with anger.

"Are you out of your mind, Potter," he hissed and glanced anxiously back at his circle of friends. Luckily, there was a moments distraction, when a seemingly intoxicated Parkinson threw herself around Zabini's neck, and the only one still watching Harry and Malfoy was Justin. Malfoy quickly strode off the dancefloor, and out of the door. Harry froze two seconds before darting after him.

He caught him at the top of the stairs. "Oi, Malfoy, wait!"

"Get away from me, Potter," Malfoy growled over his shoulder without stopping, and hastily decended the stairs. Harry more fell than ran after him and got hold of his arm as they reached the sixth floor. Malfoy spun on his heels and faced him with eyes narrow and flashing with anger. "What in Salazar's name were you trying to do? It was bad enough as it was. Do you want to get us outed in front of the whole school?"

Harry was stunned. He hadn't thought at all, as usual. "What do you mean,  _outed?"_   he asked a little confounded.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I sure don't want everybody to know I'm gay," Malfoy smeared.

Harry blinked. "I'm not... gay. Are you?" He felt dumbfounded and aghast.

"Of course, I'm gay, you twat," Malfoy hissed, "and I must say, you don't seem particularly reluctant to the sex we've been having for WEEKS now! Maybe you should give that a thought or two, it might mean something."

"But I'm in love with Ginny." This wasn't what he wanted, this wasn't planned. This was not what he imagined things would be. And yet, Malfoy was here, radient and magnetic, and so much… alive.

"So you keep saying." Malfoy gazed at Harry, and the corner of his mouth twitched. "Look, you don't have to do this, you know. We can stop any time you want, I don't care." Malfoy glanced down the corridor and back at Harry again. "But if you like, there's an empty storage-room down the hall." He slid his hand over Harry's crotch. "Only if you want to, it's all the same to me."

He walked over to the door down the corridor, turned and looked at Harry before he entered. Harry gave a sigh and followed. Of course, he followed.

                                                                                  ***

Heavenly. Malfoy's lips were on his cock and it was heavenly. He licked and sucked and Harry pushed in, fucking his delicious mouth. 

The abandoned shed, close to the locker-rooms was dusty and dirty, with cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, but it was their best hideout, secluded and out of bounds from everyone, except Madam Hooch, who kept old scores and statistics in the battered old desk by the wall. Som worn-out Quidditch uniforms hanged on hooks by the door, but otherwise, it was empty.

Harry's breath was starting to hitch up and he could feel his release coming closer, when Malfoy suddenly let go of his cock and started to caress his buttocks with more intensity. Harry moaned and looked down at him with a frown. "Don't stop, Malfoy. I'm close," he groaned.

"I know. Patience, Potter, patience." He chuckled a little, as he conjured something slippery to his hands. "That's never been one of your virtues, now has it?" He let his finger trail the crack of Harry's arse and dug in deeper, causing Harry to gasp. He found what he was looking for and let his forefinger plunge in. The sensation was overwhelming and Harry's knees buckled. What was happening, what was Malfoy doing to him?

With one swift move, Malfoy shoved him around and made him bend over on the top of the desk. He kicked his feet to make his legs spread a little wider and continued to work his finger inside Harry's puckered hole. Harry yelped. He shivered. He moaned. He felt the tight ring of muscles relax and his body push backwards to meet Malfoy's eager hand. Harry heard him laugh, "Oh, Potter." Malfoy pushed in another finger and Harry let out a load groan, as Malfoy scissored his fingers to strech him wider, and Harry could feel his ragged breath aong his neck. Harry whimpered, as his head was spinning and his heart was doing crazy twirls in his chest.

Malfoy panted very close to his ear, "You can waltz around with that little She-Weasle all you want, Scarhead, it doesn't mean a thing. You're still gay as fuck. You don't want anything more than my cock up your arse." His lips trailed down on Harry's naked back and then he pushed something long and throbbing against Harry's crack. Harry couldn't help but grind his arse against it. He wanted it, he craved it. He felt dizzy and Malfoy's voice seemed to come to him from far away. "Say it, Potter, say that you love it. That you'd love to have my cock inside your arse."

"I do," Harry panted.

"That's not enough," Malfoy teased, as he slowly pushed inside, making Harry gasp. "Say it."

Harry felt compleatly out of his mind. Malfoy held still, giving Harry time to adjust. When Malfoy moved again, he brushed something inside of him, that went straight to Harry's own cock, making it leak and wobble. His eyes filled with moist in a mixture of pain and desire. He felt he couldn't hold back much longer. He cried out, "I love your cock inside me. I love you."

Malfoy stopped and panted, then he resumed his thrusts harder and faster than before, making Harry come with a gasp that totally rendered him breathless. Within seconds and just a few more thrusts, Malfoy pushed as far inside as he could and ejaculated violently, with his lips on Harry's neck. They both collapsed on the desk, still entangled in each other's limbs, with sweat and spit and cum all over.

Rather abrubtly, Malfoy rose, cast a  _Scourgify_ and quickly put on his clothes. Without a glance at Harry and without his usual: see you around, Potter, he left.

Harry rolled over on his back and stared up on the dirty ceiling. Now, he was thouroghly and truly screwed, in more ways than one.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Draco

He ran. He ran until he felt safe. He stormed through the castle until he came to the only place where he knew he could let the mask slip, where he was truly on his own. The stairs to the top of the Astronomy tower almost got the better of him, since he was a little out of breath to begin with.

This wasn't part of the bargain, this wasn't what he planned. He'd played a game with high stakes, he knew that, and he had all along thought he sat with the winning cards. How come he now felt as he was loosing?  _He_ wasn't the one to have said it. There wasn't to be any  _feelings_ in this, was it?

Draco slid down on the cold stone floor, his whole body shaking.

It took some time for him to compose himself. The whole night, apparently, but as he walked the corridor to the Great Hall, he felt constrained and confident again, with the Malfoy air and the Malfoy mask, forever the Slytherin Prince.

When he returned to Hogwarts, he'd been afraid. He hadn't expected to get the invitation-letter to the additional year in the first place, and it took Headmistress McGonnagall more than one long meeting to persuade him to come back with the others from his year. "No matter what," she'd said, "all students from last year has been given this chance to come back and get a degree." All in the name of the new unity. But he was the only one with the Mark.

He meant to stay out of everybody's way and only focus on his NEWT's, and he'd been scared. But all it took was one look into those mesmerizing green eyes, as they met in the Great Hall the first night. Potter held his gaze and gave a small nod, before he went on his way, and Draco released a breath he wasn't aware of holding, and his confidence returned as he straightened his shoulders.

The duels and sparring with Potter had come like a warm blanket of normality, and he had embraced it thankfully. He had the suspicion that Potter felt the same need for everything to be as it'd always been. And to his surprise; as Potter treated him exactly like before, so did everyone else. But everything was not the same, it could never be. Not after the Fire, not after the Battle and not after the Trials, were Potter had witnessed in favour of him and his mother, and most likely, saved them from imprisonment.

He braced himself and stepped into the morning clatter in the Hall, and with his head high and with a perfectly arched eyebrow, he walked on to the Slytherin table, in perfect control of his body's movement. He was careful not to look around for Potter. He sat and nodded to his friends, when it struck him, that for the first time, in all the years he'd been at Hogwarts, was he seated with his back to the Gryffindor table.

                                                                                          ***

He tried to avoid Potter. It wasn't easy, since all the 8th years had almost every class together. He hurried out of classrooms and spent most of his time in the Slytherin dungeons. He even stayed away from meals and sneaked off to the kitchen late at evenings, to get something from the house-elves, to eat in his dorm.

But in Potions it was impossible not to see him. Draco had tried to persuade Professor Slughorn to get him another assignment-partner, but since neither Blaise, Theo nor Pansy wanted to switch with him, Slughorn had declined. And he didn't have any more friends to ask.

"Why didn't you come yeasterday?" Potter's face was ridiculously transparant. Did he even  _try_ to conceal his feelings? Draco kept his eyes on the cauldron and continued stirring the potion alternately clockwise and anti-clockwise.

"Malfoy, what's wrong? What have I done?" Potter raised his voice a little.

Draco shuddered his shoulders. "I didn't feel like it." He made an effort to keep it steady and nonchalant.

"But why?"

"I just grew tired of our little game, that's all."

"You bastard." Potter's voice carried in the still of the classroom. "You could've told me. I was WAITING."

Draco flicked his eyes at the boy standing so close to him. "Keep it down, Potter," he growled. "Are you completely mad?" He glanced quickly around the room. "Do you want everybody to hear? What will your little girlfriend think?"

"Is that what this is about? Is this about Ginny?"

Draco laughed maliciously. "Why would anything be about something as insignificant as Ginny Weasley?"

Potter was angry now. His jade-green eyes flamed, his cheeks burned and his breath hitched, and he looked  _so hot._ He yelled, "Well, fuck you, Malfoy!"

He twirled, grabbed his bag and steamed off towards the door, bumping into desks on his way out. Draco couldn't help but shout after him, "Well, fuck you too, Scarhead."

"Mr Malfoy, Mr Potter, please, I must ask you to behave like gentlemen," Slughorn aimlessly called out to the classroom. Draco turned back just in time to see the neglected cauldron boil over and he heard Blaise snigger behind him, "Seems like your little Gryffindor flirt is over, Draco."

                                                                                          ***

"I've always had you figured for a poof." Blaise threw himself down in the chair beside him at the common room table later the same evening. "You can be very obvious sometimes, my dear friend, with the excess use of hands and swaying hips, especially when you're sloshed and lose some of that Malfoy poise. Potter was a bit more unexpected, though."

Draco tried very hard not ot lift his eyes from the book. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't give me that crap. I've had my desk right behind yours in Potions the entire term. I suspected it before, but today it became painfully obvious." He contemplated a moment, furrowing his brow. "For everyone except those imbecile Gryffindork friends of his, I suppose, who still doesn't have a clue. But you haven't fooled me."

"I still have no idea of what you're on about." Draco arched an eyebrow.

"Don't forget who you're talking to here," Blaise remarked, his voice hardening. "I've heard you wanking and moaning his name since 4th year, remember?"

Draco went scarlet red.  _That was once._ Damn his fair complexion for giving him away like this.

"Oh, this is just getting better and better," Blaise chuckled. "Wait till the Prophet gets hold on this, they'll go abolutely crazy. THE SAVIOUR AND THE DEATH EATER, I can just see the headlines."

Draco turned to him. "You wouldn't dare?"

Blaise's dark eyes narrowed to slight chips of black stone. "Oh, I most certainly would, my friend. But, as you know, there's a price for everything." He leaned back and relaxed his stare. "Even so, this wouldn't reflect too badly on you, you know."

"I don't care about me," Draco blurted out, and regretted it instantly.

Blaise Zabini almost fell off his chair with laughter, totally ignoring the stares from the other students. He lowered his voice again. "Oh, Draco," he whispered and wiped his tears while convulsing with mirth, "you  _love_ him. Isn't that the most hilarious." He gave a mock sympathetic face. "And now your little fling is over and your heart's been broken." He got up from his chair and hoovered over Draco, while hissing in his ear. "That small piece of information just made my price knock the roof off. You better start writing to Mummy and ask for a neat little sum to help you through the Christmas expenses."

                                                                                           ***

"Ginny and I broke up."

It was the first week after the Christmas holidays and Draco was cornered outside the Charms classroom and couldn't escape.

"Why would I care?"

"I thought you might wanted to know." Potter shuddered his shoulders. "Since I just had the shittiest Christmas-leave ever."

Shitty Christmas indeed. Draco had spent his leave coiled up on his bed like a wounded animal, while his mother rummaged around the mansion, still throwing things out, moving furniture, removing, cleaning, never still.

"Why don't you want to see me anymore?" Potter continued. "Is this some Pure-blood racist shit again?"

"No!" Draco was outraged. "How can you even think that?"

"Well, since you stopped talking to me, HOW AM I SUPPOSE TO KNOW?" Potter yelled. He was working himself up now. "Everything is going straight to hell for me. Ginny  HATES me. She threw her famous Bat-bogy hex on me and made me leave the Burrow the day before Christmas. I can't say I blame her, though, since I've been treating her like SHIT, and it's ALL your fault. And since you don't want to see me either, I have absolutely NOTHING, no friends, no home, no family. I spent two and half weeks alone in that dreadful house Sirius left me."

Draco swallowed. Well," he drawled, "don't talk to me about shitty holydays. At least you didn't have to consider the visiting hours at Azkaban."

"He DESERVES to be at Azkaban," Potter screamed, his face red and his eyes black with anger. Draco wanted to yell back, he wanted to scream and kick and hit, Potter or anything, really. He clenched his fists so hard the knuckles whitened. Between tightly pressed lips he hissed, "Where I too belong, isn't that what you want to say?"

"I spoke up for you at your trial, remember?" Potter had also lowered his voice to a faint snarl. "Merlin knows, why I even bothered, since all it led to was you ruining my life."

"Well, I certainly didn't ask for it." Now it was Draco's turn to yell. "I prepared myself for WEEKS to take my punishment with as much dignity as I was able, and then you swept in and charmed the whole Wizengamot, with your smile and your sparkling eyes and your words of innocence, when you knew VERY WELL that I wasn't innocent AT ALL!" He drew a steadying breath. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I couldn't bear the thought of you in prison, that's why." Potter's eyes were susiciously moist and he panted heavily. "Everything was horrible enough, after the war, with so many dead. I couldn't live in a world where there was no Draco Malfoy."

They stood there, breathing, glaring at each other, but none of them said anything more. Finally, Potter turned around, opened the door and left.

                                                                                            ***

As soon as the owl dropped it, he recognized the stationery envelope with the Malfoy crest. Before he had a chance to open it, Slughorn's hand fell heavily on his shoulder. "Will you please come with me, Mr Malfoy. The Headmistress wishes to see you in her office right away."

He knew something was wrong. As he followed Slughorn through the corridors and the narrow spiral staircase, clutching his mother's letter in his increasingly sweaty hand, he just knew this couldn't be good news.

The Headmistress rose from her chair behind the desk as they entered. "Mr Malfoy, would you please sit down. Thank you, Horace, but I think I need a moment or two alone with Mr Malfoy. Would you be so kind as to wait outside?" She gestured to Slughorn, who gave Draco a glance, that Draco couldn't interpret and then he left.

"Mr Malfoy…  Draco," Headmistress McGonnagall started, "I've received news about a recent development, and I can see that your mother has written to you, as I can only guess, about the same matter. Why don't you take a moment here and read your mother's letter?"

Now Draco was truly afraid. With trembling hands he opened the letter. It was clearly written in haste, but with his mother's distinct handwriting.

_My darling boy, I have at this moment been told from the Ministry's men, who came to see me, that your Father is dead. There seems to have been a row of some kind at Azkaban, and your Father was killed by some of his fellow prisoners. As much as this news must chock you, as it has chocked me, I must beg of you, not to come home at this hour of sorrow. There is chaos here, with Ministry officials and Aurors running in and out of the Manor. As soon as we know more, and things settle, I will contact you. Your forever loving mother_

_Narcissa Black Malfoy_

Numb. He felt absolutely nothing. He stared at the parchment in his hand and folded it slowly. Then he straightened his shoulders and looked at the woman in front of him. Her face was creased with concern, but still he felt nothing.

"It is a most unfortunate occurrence," she said. "I assume that your mother wants you to come home immediately?"

"No." His tone was cold and in total lack of emotion. "She wants me to wait until it calms down a little." He stood. "Can I be excused?"

"If you need…" She fumbled a little with her wand on her desk. "If you feel the need to speak to anyone, please, let me know. I want to help, if I can."

Draco bowed politley. "Thank you." He turned an headed for the door.

"I'm very sorry for your loss, Mr Malfoy," she called after him.

He couldn't help but sneer. "No, you're not. In fact, I think that you, as well as everybody else here, are quite pleased. Give me the curtesy not to pretend otherwise, at least."

He left and ignored Slughorn, who'd been waiting outside, calling after him. With long strides he walked hastily through the corridors. Away. Out. Somewhere else.

                                                                                               

Hours later, he stood outside the portrait hole. It was long after midnight and the fat bitch in the painting was snoring. He woke her up by tapping on the frame and uttered the password, desperatly hoping it hadn't been changed. She glared at him, but opened with a yawn and went back to sleep.

A few minutes later he was inside the 8th year Gryffindor boy's dorm, wondering which bed was Potter's. The drapes were closed on all of them, and he had no desire to pick the wrong one.He was shivering with cold, his robes almost frozen on his bones. His teeth clattered and his hands were shaking, and he was starting to feel that this was the worst idea he had the whole fucking day, when suddenly there was movement in the curtains of the four-poster next to the window. A faint  _Lumos_ appeared to Draco's relief, Potter's black mop of hair peered out.

"Draco, is that you?" he whispered. "Merlin's beard, have I been looking for you." He came up to him and threw his arms around Draco's shivering body. "You're absolutely freezing," he said. "Come here." He steered Draco towards the bed and cast a silencing spell around them and closed the drapes. Draco had spent the day walking, for hours, in the cold, until his body was as numb as his mind.

"You've heard?" Draco managed to let out through his clenched teeth. He kicked off his shoes and crawled up at the footboard, wrapping his arm around his legs. Potter fumbled after his glasses on the nightstand and sat at the other end of the bed. He was wearing plaid pyjama bottoms and a vivid red T-shirt, and the  _Lumos_ made his eyes glitter behind the spectacles. But they were filled with concern when he leaned forward and put his hand over Draco's. "We all heard. Have you been out all day? What were you trying to do? Make you freeze to death? It's still February, you know."

Potter hesitated a little, but then he slowly came closer and loosened Draco's arms from their grip around the knees. He pulled the ice-cold robe off his shoulders, then he continued pulling Draco's jumper over his head. He said nothing but let his fingers trail through the blond hair, that fell in limp tangles. Draco knew he must look a complete mess and shuddered, but whimpered slightly when he felt the warm hand against his face.

Potter continued with his wet socks and trousers, until Draco was left in his white T-shirt and pants. Potter lifted the duvet. "Would you like to lay down?"

Potter took his glasses off and reduced the light from his wand. They lay there in the narrow bed, not speaking, not touching, and slowly, very slowly Draco began to relax and feel the warmth. The searched each others eyes in the shadows and finally Draco spoke, very quietly, "Sometimes, he couldn't look me in the eyes." Potter said nothing, no need to ask of whom he was talking about.

"When I was little, he was my hero and I wanted to be exactly like him. I admired him so much and did everything I could to imitate him." He fell silent again and closed his eyes. "But that's just it," his voice was a bit hoarse, "I was nothing more than a poor imitation. It wasn't me." He stopped talking again. He realized that he'd let his guard down. No dissimulation, no false appearance. What was wrong with him? Had someone managed to slip him some  _Veritaserum_ without him noticing? He gave Potter a furtive glance to see if he was smirking, but his Bright eyes were just solemnly fixed on his. "I was a constant disappointment to him," Draco went on. It felt good.

"How could you be that?" Potter asked in a low soft voice.

"Oh, he could see right through me." Draco opened his eyes and met Potter's. "I couldn't hide anything from him, and he could never really forgive me."

"For what?"

"For being a complete failure, for acting without truly believing, for taking the Mark for all the wrong reasons."

"Those are all good things, you know," Potter said, a smile on his lips.

"Not according to my Father." Draco said and continued. "For being a coward, a fake, for being weak and... being gay."

"He knew that?"

"Even Before I did," Draco sighed. "He called me a deviant. I didn't know what it meant, I had to look it up. He also told me, that no matter how many cocks I wanted to suck, he still demanded I'd obey the tradition and marry the Pure.blood girl they had chosen for me and produce an heir." He swallowed audibly. "I was fourteen."

After a while he said, "He never gave me a chance to make my own choises in life." And with a quivering voice, he added, "I loved him very much."

Draco kept talking and Potter listened. At some point Potter took Draco's hand, the left with the ugly mark on the forearm. He didn't let go and Draco didn't pull away.

There was a noice and they heard padding of feet. "Don't worry," Potter said, "it's only Seamus, he always wakes early to take a leak."

But Draco sat up and realized that the darkness was fading. "It's dawning. I better leave."

"Here," Potter leaned down and rumbled around in his trunk, "take this." He held out a cloth of luminescent material.

Draco's eyes widened. "Are you giving me your Cloak?"

"You can return it tomorrow," Potter grinned. "Now go, before the whole House wakes up."

                                                                                                        ***

Draco was standing next to Potter's four-poster and slowly took off the Invisibility Cloak. It had been the best thing to hide under during the day, present but not there for anyone to speak to. He had walked the corridors, sat in the Slytherin common room sofas, listening. He was grateful that Potter had let him have it, but now he had come to give it back.

He folded it with great care and pushed aside the hangings, careful not to make a sound and placed it on Potter's bed, when he became aware of a pair of shining green eyes in the dark.

"Oh, you're awake," Draco whispered. "Thank you for the Cloak." He kept his eyes on the shimmering fabric and patted it lightly.

Potter sat up, searching his face. "It can come in handy, sometimes." He hesitated a little. "Would you like to stay for a while?"

Draco forced his voice to sound indifferent. "All right."

He quickly removed his clothes and got into bed as Potter cast the  _Muffliato._

Like the night before, they lay facing eachother in the weak light, silent, but in a comfortable silent. After a long while, Draco said, "I can't talk about the war. I'm not sure I ever can."

"That's all right," Potter said. "I find that hard too. Everybody wants to talk to me about what I did, how it felt... things like that. Later, maybe we can talk about that later." He tucked and patted the duvet over Draco's shoulder. "Why don't you try to sleep instead?"

Draco shut his eyes and inhaled the comforting scent of Potter, felt the heat radiate from the other boy so close to him. When the morning clatter surrounded them, Potter made him take the cloak again, to sneak out.

When he came up in the Slytherin dorm, he pulled out his trunk from under the bed and hid the Cloak there. Before he closed it, a narrow blue box caught his eye and he picked it up. It was labelled with Scrivenshaft's and it contained a beautiful soft white quill. He hadn't used it, he just kept it there and looked at it sometimes. Nobody, except his parents, had ever bought him a gift. They all expected him to pay for everything. And this was given for no particular reason at all. Potter had just handed it over to him with a shrug, "I thought it might suit you." Draco put the lid back on with a strange feeling in his stomach.

Later, when he went down to the Great Hall, there was an owl waiting for him with a letter from his mother, asking him to come home.

                                                                                            ***

When Potter came up to the Gryffindor dorm a few nights later, Draco could see that he noticed the dip in the bed, where his body laied, covered under the Cloak. Potter kept up some antics with Weasley and Thomas, talked to Longbottom for a while, then wished everybody a good night and eased himself down in the narrow space that was left on the bed. He drew the curtains, cast a silencing spell and pulled the Cloak away from Draco's face. Draco's cheeks were slightly tinged, and his white blond hair fell across the pillow. They looked at each other.

"You're back. How was it?"

Draco cringed. "Ghastly. We had some kind of funeral." He screw his eyes shut. "I don't want to talk about it. Please, say something that's not related to my Father."

"You're beautiful." Potter threaded his fingers through the silky strands on the pillow. Draco's cheeks flushed bright red and he hid his face in the pillow.

"How can you say that?" he mumbled with his eyes closed. "You know it's not true."

"Are you _embarrassed_ _?"_ Potter seemed amused and took hold of Draco's chin and tilted it up. "Did I managed to make the great Malfoy embarrassed?"

"I know I'm not much to look at," he muttered. "Pointy chin, pointy nose, sharp canine teeth, too bony and no colouring whatsoever."

"Well," Potter said, and Draco slowly met his gaze. "I guess we both could eat better, and if you didn't wear black all the time you wouldn't look so pale, but… he ran his fingers through Draco's hair again, "I've always loved the colour of your hair, and you have the cutest feral teeth, Ferret. Besides, you're smart, and funny when you're not mean, and your eyes… Potter fell silent and Draco did what he had thought about doing for a very long time, he kissed him.

It was merely a quick touch of lips and they pulled apart quite hasty.

"So, you think I should wear more coulor, huh?" Draco said, after clearing his throat.

Potter nodded.

"You probably think it should be Muggle clothes, as well, don't you?"

"That would be nice. Then we could go someplace… and do something," Potter stuttered.

Draco looked at him with eyes wide open. "Are you asking me on a date?"

"Would that be such a bad thing?"

"I wouldn't know." Draco's voice went very soft, "I've never been on a date."

"Why ever not?" Now it was Potter's turn to have eyes wide of surprise.

Draco shuddered his shoulders. "Wrong side of the war, remember. Evil scheming gay Death Eaters aren't as popular as you might think," he said snidely.

Potter snorted. "That's what  _you_ think." He took hold of Draco's arms and forced him to meet his eyes. "All I want, is for you to be  _my_ evil scheming  _ex-_ Death Eater."

Draco tried to suppress it, he really did, but it came up anyway, a loud sob from that aching lump deep down in his stomach. Potter pulled him closer, with his arms around him in a firm grip. "But don't you ever doubt," he spoke very quietly, whiffing Draco's ear with his hot breath, "that just because I said, I love you, doesn't mean I'm not abel to hex your arse off, anytime I feel the need." 

Draco thought about the sparring, the challenges, the heat that had always been between them, escalating through the years, culminating in war. Could he be without that? Did he want to? To hell with it all.

He put his hand on Potter's neck and pulled him closer. Potter resisted a bit, but Draco was determined and drew him closer. He buried his face at the crook of Potter's neck and whimpered, "Oh, Harry."

It was amazing how easy the name slid over his tongue.

The kiss that Harry gave him was nothing like their first. This was deep and fierce and demanding, this was tongue and teeth and spit, this was biting and sucking and devouring, this was bodies who didn't know how to be close enough.

"That's the first time you ever said my name," Harry said very seriously, as they pulled apart to gasp for air. "I rather like it," he smiled.

As the night went on, Draco lost count on how many times he whispered, gasped and panted Harry's name. With the passion growing, the issue of names became increasingly less important, as primal bodily urges took over. When Draco came violently, with ropes of white cum over Harry's stomach, he cried it, loud and shameless, and collapsed on top of him, pressing him down on the matrass with all his weight. Before sleep took hold of him and he drifted off, he put his lips on Harry's ear and whispered, "I love you too, Scarhead."

                                                                                          ***

"Oi, Harry! Time to wake up, you're late."

The unfamiliar voice edged into his sleep-heavy mind, and slowly urged him to the surface. He was weighed down on his back by a warm body, limbs intangled, and naked skin was glued together by sweat. An unruly mass of hair tickled his nose, and he breathed him in. He loved the scent of Harry, sweet and salty at the same time. Harry moved around a little, burying his face deeper in the pit of Draco's collarbone.

Someone pulled the drapes apart.

"Hey, Harr...WHAT THE FUCK!"

Draco snapped his head up, unfortunately, so did Harry.

Smack!

"Aww," Draco cried out. The PAIN. Instinctively he put his hands up to cover his aching nose, where Harry's head had hit him. They were filled with som warm sticky liquid.

"Oh, Draco," he heard Harry say. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. Ron, quick, give me something I can transfigure to a block of ice."

There was a commotion in the room and other voices overlapped with the first. Draco squirmed on the bed with his blood-drenched hands covering his face, moaning with pain.

"What's going on?"

"Harry broke Malfoy's nose."

"Good for him."

"Will this do?"

"Perfect. Draco, please, take away your hands. I have some ice here, to stop the bleeding."

"Oh, oh, oh, it hurts!"

"What's he doing here anyway?"

"And naked?" Someone giggled.

"He needs to see Pomfery. That nose could possibly be broken."

Draco felt the ice have effect, the blood wasn't gushing down anymore. He tried to sit up, suddenly aware of the crowd around the four-poster, and the fact that he was naked, and in the wrong dorm.

"Look at his arm, Neville."

"Well, we always knew he took it, didn't we.?"

"Mates," Harry said, still holding the ice and a cloth to Draco's nose, searching for his eyes. "If you havn't noticed, we're a bit naked here and it's kinda awkward. Could we, please, have some privacy to get our clothes on?"

There was a mumble, but the drapes closed on the boys on the bed. Draco met Harry's gaze. 

"So, it's out now, I suppose." Harry gave a short laugh. "Do you mind?"

Draco bit his lower lip. "Not sure. Don't think so, not anymore. Do you?"

"Not a bit," Harry grinned. Then he frowned, "I'm really sorry about your nose. I'm not sure it's broken, though. Does it still hurt?"

"Immensely."

"Come on then, you big drama-queen. Get dressed and I'll take you to Madam Pomfrey." They started to put on their clothes, which was a bit difficult for Draco, as he had to keep one hand at his bleeding face all the time. But with Harry's help they managed, opened the curtains and headed out for the stairs.

"Oi, Harry, where do you think you're going?" Weasley called after them. "You've got a game today."

Obviously, he can't go alone," Harry said to Weasley.

"Ginny'll kill you if you're late for the warm up and her pep-talk. You can't risk that, now that she's finally talking to you again."

Harry looked from Weasley to Draco, and back again. "I don't… I..." He swallowed.

"Go, I can make it. It's not that far to the Infirmary from here." Draco supported himself with one hand against the wall and proceeded down the stairs.

"No," Weasley said with a low grunt. "I'll take you, Malfoy." He took hold of Draco's forearm and steered him downstairs. "Go, Harry. I promise, I'll take care of him," he added with a malicious grin.

It was a slow and unpleasant walk to the hospital wing, and none of them felt the need to small-talk. Not until Weasley cleared his throat with great care and finally said, "So, Malfoy, you and Harry, eh?"

Draco said nothing, just gave him one of his looks.

"No need to glare, I was merely trying to mention the elephant in the room."

"What in Salazar's name, is that supposed to mean?" Draco snapped his head towards him and immediately felt blood trickling down his upper lip. He lifted his chin again and pressed the ice to the bridge of the nose. It still hurt like hell.

Weasley shuddered his shoulders. "Muggle expression. When something is very obvious but not talked about. Like the fact that you've slept in Harry's bed, naked."

They walked on, up some stairs. Weasley had both his hands on Draco, to steady him.

"So, I presume it's you then?" Weasley continued. "The one he… the one he left Ginny for."

"You knew?" Draco squirmed a little.

"We knew it was a bloke. Harry told Hermione and me right after New year's, and that it's been going on for a while. But he refused to tell us who. It had to be someone at Hogwarts, and my first guess was you."

They had reached the fourth floor and was standing right outside the door to the Hospital wing. Draco lowered his head slowly and gave the red head Gryffindor a furtive look. They were the same hight as their eyes met.

"And you don't… mind? After all that's been said and done?"

Weasley quirked his shoulders again. "Can't say I like you, Malfoy. Merlin knows, what he sees in you. You're still a perfect prat in my opinion, but he's my best mate, so... Well, in a way, it's always been you for him, hasn't it? Don't suppose there's any need to tell you, what I'll do to you if you treat him bad in any way, is there?" He patted him awkwardly on the back. "Well, you ought to get it from here. See you later at the pitch then, Malfoy.

 

Madam Pomfrey took one quick look at his nose, "Well, nothing seems to be broken here, but the cartilage is crushed." She gave him a potion. "Who did this to you?"

Draco winced, but her harsh gaze forced him to reply. "Harry Potter. But it was an accident."

Pomfrey grunted. "Oh, I'm sure it was." She pointed her wand at his face and muttered a spell. With a tingling sensation, his nose seemed to stretch, and the pain was almost gone as well. "When will the two of you stop these childish fights, I wonder?"

"We might have, already," he mumbled, with slightly pink cheeks. "As I said, this was an accident."

She fussed and wiped his face. "Very well, if you say so. But I still have to report this to the Headmistress. Now, lay down on the cot. I'll check on you within the hour."

"But, what about the game? There's the House-cup match today." He had no intension to miss the game, locked up here in the Infirmary. "I have to be at the Quidditch pitch."

"Surly you don't intend to play?" she asked with a stern look.

"No, no, just watch," Draco shook his head. "Harry's playing. It's Gryffindor against Hufflepuff."

"I never seem to remember which House plays which, it's all the same to me," she huffed. "You all end up here injured, anyway."

"Please," Draco begged. "I feel so much better already."

Pomfey sighed. "Well, I honestly think you should rest, but there's nothing wrong with your nose anymore, so if you must..."

He sprang to his feet and, what surprised them both, gave her a light peck on the cheek.

 

Draco found Harry sitting on a bench in the locker room, still in his Quidditch robes, clutching his worn gloves. All the other players had finished showering and was on their way out, laughing and joking towards the Great Hall.

Draco went up to Harry and sat down at his side. "So, you lost, then?"

"He caught the Snitch," Harry said dully. "It was right in front of me, and he caught it, just the same." The new Hufflepuff seeker, a 4th year boy Harry hadn't bother to learn the name of before today, had made a lightning-fast turn and ended the game after twenty-three minutes.

"Well," Draco said and cleared his voice. "Maybe it's time for us to step down, give the new students the oppotunity to shine. I've thought about quitting the team, already,  with the NEWTs coming up and everything." He paused and added more softly. "I only joined because you did. That was always the fun part of Quidditch, chasing you. Maybe it's time for us to grow up."

Harry turned and looked solemnly at him. "It scares the shit out of me, you know, not going to Hogwarts anymore, to make decisions, to accomplish things, start a life." He laughed a short humouless laugh. "I haven't got the faintest idea of what I want to do when I get out of here."

Draco studied his shoes and cleared his throat again. "We could try finding it out together, if you like. We could start with this. Are we doing this?" He lifted his left hand, wich had clasped around Harry's, fingers weaved together without any of them noticing.

"You want to be my boyfriend?" Harry asked hastily.

Draco cringed, and Harry removed his hand instantly and looked away. But Draco was fast and caught his hand again. "No, no, don't get me wrong, it's the  _word_ I hate. I love to be something, anything, someone to you."

Harry grinned and tilted his head. "You're such a prick, you know that. So, what do you want me to call you when people ask, huh? Special friend, significant other, fiancé… husband?"

"Wow, wow, wow, hold on a sec-" But he was silenced as Harry's mouth covered his and the kiss deepened.

 

**Three months later**

"Here's your beer, Harry." Ron handed one of the two bottles and took a large swig from his own and followed Harry's gaze. It landed on a tall slim boy with silver white hair on the dancefloor. He twisted and twirled, and the long strands of his hair whipped his face, and he was laughing. He was wearing light grey trousers that clung to his hips and arse, and a pink,  _pink,_ shirt. But it was a dusty kind of pink, that made his eyes shine and his complexion glow, and Harry thought he looked absolutely gorgeous.

The two final year students celebrated their last day at Hogwarts. Both 8th and 7th years had finished their exams, and tomorrow they would board the Hogwart Express for the last time, and their life as adults would begin. Tonight, though, they were still kids and there was a farewell-party in the Great Hall.

"The choices we make in life, huh," his best friend muttered as he looked at Harry, nodding towards Draco, who was, at the moment, jumping up and down, waving his hands in the air together with Pansy and Luna.

"Choice?" Harry laughed. "It feels more like getting hit by a ten-ton truck."

"What?" Ron shook his head. He sometimes felt very stupid around Harry and Hermione and their Muggle expressions. He tried to learn, but it was hard to get a grip of them all.

"So, are you all set for tomorrow?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yep," Harry responded. "I finally got Kreacher to agree, to meet up at the platform at Kings Cross with my pack. Then he can take my trunk to Grimauld Place until we get back. Draco's mum insisted on going with us to Waterloo station and see us off."

"And then you're off for two months, backpacking in Europe, Muggle style, with Draco Malfoy?" Ron shook his head in disbelief as Harry grinned."You know he'll probably whine and complain the whole time, right?"

Harry laughed. "I  _know_ he will, but I hope he'll moan my name a couple of times, as well."

"Urkk!" Ron made a retching sound.

"It'll be fine," Harry beamed, slung an arm on his best friend's shoulder and hugged it. "When do you and Mione plan to be back from Australia?"

"Her univeristy course starts the same week as our Auror training, but since we'll try to get her parents to move home again, we'll probably be back a couple of weeks before that. What about you two?"

"We plan to stay away as long as we can, but we'll see. Draco haven't heard if he got into the Healers program yet. I told him not to worry, not with him getting almost as good grades as Hermione at his NEWTs, but you know Draco." Harry sighed and let his gaze linger on the blond boy.

"We'll miss your birthday, then," Ron concluded.

"Well, I was planning on spending it in bed, anyway, getting shagged sensless," Harry grinned.

"Harry!" the redhead exclaimed outraged. "Who would've thought you'd become such a slut?"

Harry chuckled and gave his friend's shoulder another squeeze.

Ron looked at Harry, searching his eyes. "You really have it bad for that faggoty pink thing over there, haven't you?"

Harry's emerald green eyes met his and the sparkle in them were mesmerizing. "Oh, Ron, you know I'm tits over arse for him, right?" He snickered a little embarrassedly. "What do you think, will he kill me if I join him on the dancefloor?"

"Most likely. But I guess that won't put you off," Ron muttered.

"No," Harry smiled, "it won't."


End file.
